


Half of Me, Half of You

by stardustsroses



Category: A Court of Thorns and Roses Series - Sarah J. Maas
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Mating Bond, aka the one where the mating instincts drive her absolutely insane, the one where cass is very sad and nesta doesn't know what to do with herself
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-14
Updated: 2018-10-14
Packaged: 2019-08-02 04:31:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16298213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stardustsroses/pseuds/stardustsroses
Summary: Four months have passed since Cassian and Nesta started training in the Illyrian mountains. After weeks of healing, of breaking down and being put back together, their mating bond clicks. Everything changes. Nesta finds herself used to their shared nights in their tent, and to all the things she had rejected for herself, for so long. This is a look into one of those nights when Cassian comes to his mate. For the first time, he’s the one that breaks down. || post-acofas





	Half of Me, Half of You

It was the strangest of all things – the way their bond worked.

Nesta’s gaze fell away from her book, her mind snapping back to reality. Her attention narrowed predatorily to the entrance of the tent they shared, her heartbeat quickening. The instinctive reaction of her body to the faraway sound of wings was no longer surprising to her, but the feeling that now came along with it…

It was different. Something was different.

Something was wrong.

How strange – the fact that she could flip through her emotions like the pages of a book, and pick out the ones that belonged to him. Nesta could smell the tension in the air, even as he soared mountains away; she could detect the nervousness wavering above and around her as well as she could feel that incessant restlessness that danced with anger and deep-rooted sadness. She knew, instantly, that those feelings did not belong to her.

It was a line that was drawn between them. Every strong emotion that he felt, Nesta could feel only a singly prick of it at the bottom of her stomach, just hanging there, a mild feeling, a ghost of an emotion she recognized and did not truly feel herself, but understood all the same.

Protect, protect, protect, her body screamed at her. Why is he feeling like this? What happened? Where is he?

That instinct – it bit at her now. A wave of anxiety and nervousness falling over her head like a bucket of ice water, leaving her cold and all too aware. It pushed her to act, to search for the comfort of his scent, the warm feel of his skin, just to make sure that he wasn’t harmed, that nobody had touched him-

Nesta gathered herself, and sucked in a long breath. Everything was still so new. Even if they had been mated for weeks now, Nesta still found it difficult to control her own actions when it came to Cassian. Her body acted first, her mind second, always. When the mating instinct took over her it was like sirens in her ears, it was like a red veil covering her eyes, it was like her brain decided to go completely blank.

Even before.

Nesta remembered those weeks before the last Solstice, when she had come to that hollow place that she’d insisted on calling home, and there had been a message waiting for her at her door.

It was from Elain.

I came here to see you but you weren’t home, she’d written. I miss you, and I desperately need to talk to you, Nesta. Please, come to the House whenever you can. I promise to bake your favourite strawberry pie. I hope to see you soon. I love you. Your sister, Elain.

Truth be told, Nesta had dragged her feet all the way to the House of Wind. She knew he would be there – of course he would. She could pick up his scent from miles away. And Nesta was convinced that the subject of Elain’s conversation would either be the shadowsinger or her mate, the one that now hid himself away with his new little group of friends, which was not something Nesta had wanted to get her nose in. She’d had enough of mating bond drama from Feyre to last a lifetime. She didn’t need Elain’s, too.

She didn’t need to think about mating bonds.

Selfishly, she’d planned to turn around mid-way and abandon her sister. She’d really thought of it. She’d craved the loneliness of the chipped house that awaited her when that scent came to her, so much stronger when she was near, when the thoughts of seeing him after so long crept into her mind.

Elain did not turn her back on you. You’re turning your back on her.

In the end, Nesta let her conscience win.

She’d closed her eyes then, breathed in through her mouth, and walked on. The sight that had awaited her when she entered the House of Wind made her stop in her tracks.

And then – that same anger, that same impulsive possessiveness dawned upon her. She’d stared at his sleeping form on the couch, his arm draped over her youngest sister, their heads together. She watched, and watched on. Feyre, at some point, had tilted her head back in her sleep, and Cassian’s head had fallen on her shoulder, his soft snoring muffled against her scarf. An empty ice cream bucket lay carelessly on its side on the coffee table.

She’d been petrified, her feet stuck to the floor. She hadn’t been able to move an inch.

She hadn’t understood it at the time. Now, as she recalled that moment, she realized that it had been panic. Panic and something more – a rage so deep that it sunk into her heart, made it clench and hurt, made it feel like shattered glass against her ribcage. And this had been directed to her own sister. Her own sister who had a mate of her own.

A mate who’d received Nesta at the entrance then, a wine glass in his hand, a calm, serene aura about him. Yet she’d been able to feel an awareness in Rhys as he’d looked her over.

“Nesta,” he’d greeted.

She hadn’t been able to tear her eyes away from Cassian.

Control yourself. It’s nothing. It’s nothing.

“Where’s Elain,” she’d growled out lowly, afraid how her voice would sound. Her hands formed fists at her sides to stop herself from trembling.

“Upstairs in her room,” Rhysand had said, sipping his wine. His violet eyes had not once strayed away from her face, her own posture. Nesta had soon realized that he was expecting her to pounce, to rip Cassian off her sister’s arms, at any second. She’d realized then that he was prepared to hold her back from doing so, and that meant that, somehow, he knew.

He’d known.

“Calm down,” he’d said to her in a low voice. A soothing one too, one Rhysand had never used on her. And, to her absolute shock, Nesta couldn’t have misheard the compassion in his tone.

Her mind had raced then. He knows. He knows. He knows.

It was in the way that he’d said it, too. Like he understood.

Nesta could say that she had been truly shocked very few times in her lifetime. But at that moment…at that moment she hadn’t known what to do with herself underneath the High Lord’s gaze. She’d had no insults, no witty remarks. Nothing to shield her from his observant eyes.

“You allow this?” She’d said instead, her tone abrupt as she pointed with her chin to the little show that was happening on his couch.

Rhysand had said, “Why wouldn’t I?”

Two second’s passed. Three. Four. Cassian stirred, and Nesta couldn’t had avoided turning her own gaze to him. To the arm that pushed her sister closer to him.

She felt like a rope had been tied around her throat.

“Nesta,” Rhysand had said, setting his wine glass down. “I understand what you’re feeling-“

“You understand nothing,” she’d rasped out.

Deny it. Move along. Turn away. Go to Elain. Move, Nesta. MOVE.

She couldn’t.

Her body wouldn’t respond.

Rhysand had given her a look she hadn’t quite comprehended, and proceeded to incline his head towards his own mate. “Feyre fell on the stairs and hurt her ankle. Cassian was home and took her to a healer. They fell asleep.” He’d looked at them, then, and smiled fondly. “I saw it in Feyre’s mind-“

“I don’t know why you’re explaining it to me, I don’t care.”

“Because I know what those instincts feel like, and I know you’re not going to be able to control yourself if you don’t snap out of it.”

They’d talked in whispers, yet Nesta was still able to hear the warning and the mild threat in his voice. She hadn’t spoken, her gaze still jumping between her sister and her- and Cassian.

And then – Feyre’s ankle. It had been indeed bandaged. She hadn’t noticed it at first. She hadn’t bothered to. Her mind had jumped to silly, stupid, delusional conclusions.

“Nesta,” Rhysand began after a long, stretched-out silence.

“Don’t,” she’d muttered.

She’d felt exactly like when she’d debated ignoring Elain’s request. Selfish, and stupid, and senseless. Guilty.

Rhysand had looked back at Feyre when she stirred.

“Good morning,” he’d said cheerfully, as if nothing had been said between him and Nesta, as if that tension hadn’t existed after all. As if he hadn’t hinted at something Nesta had been fighting very hard not to even consider.

“Hi,” Feyre smiled lazily, her eyes sparkling in the presence of her mate. At seeing that smile, Nesta’s heart beat painfully inside her chest. She’d been ready to push her sister off the couch. She’d been ready to do unspeakable things, in a moment of insanity, just because of…of jealousy? Is this what she’d come to?

Feyre had many flaws. But she hadn’t deserved Nesta’s anger for what she’d seen. The guilt started to eat at her, and Nesta suddenly felt very small indeed.

She’d turned around to leave the moment her sister turned to look at her, surprise dancing in her eyes. But then-

“Nes?”

The nickname had tore at her in ways she hadn’t believed. Heart beating out of her chest, throat dry, Nesta had ignored that voice and walked up the stairs to Elain’s bedroom. She’d heard steps against the marbled tiles, but they were very brief, and she’d imagined that his brother had stopped him from following her.

Good.

She wouldn’t have known what to do had they come face to face after what she’d seen.

Since that moment, Rhysand had never spoken of their conversation. Nesta knew that Feyre might’ve known then, too. If not for her mate’s big mouth, then for her own observant nature. Nesta hadn’t cared, then.

And now – now that instinct was back. It made her walk out of that tent and look to the skies above, waiting. Relief embraced her panicked heart as she saw him soar above her, then slowly come to a descent right in front of her eyes.

He was fine. He’s alright. He’s alright.

Cassian looked up once as his feet touched the ground, but then his eyes-

Then and there gone, that relief.

Cassian charged toward her, ignoring the Illyrian’s around him. And they avoided him in return. That rage steaming off him could burn mountains to the ground. It could turn whole oceans to fire.

He passed Nesta with only a brief look of acknowledgement, and she knew not to stop him and ask. She knew to leave him be. Instead, Nesta dragged her eyes over the Illyrian’s watching his back, the apprehensive expressions, the sneers in some. She dared any of them to say a word. No one did.

Turning, she saw him climb the rest of the way towards their tent, set farther back from camp, away from the prying eyes and ears. A necessary precaution, after their mating. Not just for Cassian, who could barely let her out of her sight in the first few days, but for her, too. Even now, the eyes of the others on him made her see red. But the worry in her heart made her think nothing of it.

The sun made its way down slowly – a bittersweet ending to another early Spring day. The night air was as cold as winter though, as it blew her hair off her shoulders. Clouds gathered in front of the orange skies, bringing rain. Nesta watched the Illyrians grab their supplies of the day and gather in their tents, feeling the storm coming, feeling the vibrations of the sky in their wings and bones.

Nesta turned.

He made his way into their tent, closing the zip behind him. When the cold bit at her cheeks, Nesta walked back, climbing the steep mountain top, wondering to herself what had caused this disruption in Cassian’s calm-nature with which he left their bed this morning.

It hadn’t always been their tent. When they’d arrived, Nesta had made a point to set hers as far away from him and everybody else as she could, far away from camp. The one she was walking into now had always been his – it had his leathers and weapons carefully organized in one corner, a set of fresh clothes that smelled like him in the other, a bath that they filled with hot water they grabbed from the hot springs below, and his unmade bed, now filled with her scent too. Over the weeks, over their journey, other things had been added to it. Things that belonged to her: a set of books she’d brought with her next to their bed, blankets and more blankets to keep herself warm when he wasn’t with her that Elain had kindly gifted her after two weeks of being here, and then her own clothes, joined with his and piled neatly. Her fighting leathers hung above his weapons – the same leathers she used whenever they trained.

Their time here was ending, she knew. Nesta could now fight better than most Illyrians on this camp, and there wasn’t much else to do except finish organizing Cassian’s army. Rhys’ army. Finish the last adjustments to his soldiers, and make sure everything was in place if there were to be another conflict. Even if peace had lasted for months in Prythian. Even if there was no direct threat from any court. Peace was a feeble thing. It was always going to be.

She didn’t know what would happen when they left. This tent, this mountain – it had become a haven for them. Nesta had found herself growing used to the cold mornings when she was wrapped up in his arms, in his scent. She’d found herself growing fond of the early mornings when she trained with him, or helped him train someone else. She’d made it a habit – being here with him, with no family and no court and no past. She’d liked it. And Nesta couldn’t begin to imagine going back to that house, to Velaris, where she would have to deal with the changes that occurred far away from her sisters, and the city she’d been accustomed to hating. To the court she’d made herself hate.

“Cassian.”

She zipped the entrance of the tent, and faced him. His back was turned to her, his hands placed on the wooden table he’d set on the far end of the tent, covered in maps and numbers and names and places.

His knuckles were bruised.

His wings folded behind him, but stirred slightly when he heard her call out his name.

Nesta saw his shaking, saw his anger from afar. Never had she seen him like this. Never had he acted like this around her.

It didn’t faze her.

Nesta had always known what he was capable of when pushed too far. Nothing about Cassian frightened her anymore. Not his rage, not his love. So she drew closer to him, let him calm himself down, his head hung low.

He simply said, “Not now.”

And it wasn’t dismissive. He was urging her to stay back.

Nesta simply looked on. “What happened.”

He didn’t respond. He glared two holes into that desk.

“Take a bath,” Nesta told him, having no idea what to do, how to…comfort him. So she decided to go by the things he’d done for her, when she had needed him.

Take a bath. It will calm your mind.

“I brought you hot water,” she said, keeping her hands firmly at her sides, even if the need to touch him was like an itch she couldn’t scratch. “Take a bath. Calm yourself down.”

He growled to himself as he pushed away from the desk, the wood groaning against his grip. Nesta looked on to see his fingers marked there.

He started undressing himself, throwing his weapons to the floor.

Nesta thought it had to be something unimaginably horrific – if it had left him like this, not even able to speak. She was all too aware of the blood in his hands. Of the smell of ash and smoke that followed him.

She put herself in front of him.

“Let me,” she said, visibly softening at the sight of him.

Cassian stared at her. And something softened on his face, too. But his eyes remained painfully harsh, predatorily so.

“Breathe,” she said to him, gently. “Breathe with me.”

He did, several times. And only when his eyes opened again, did Nesta start working on unlacing the leathers that covered his chest, attentive to the wings folded carefully behind him.

He let her do it – undress every inch of him.

She should be used to seeing his naked body by now – but it always took her breath away. It always made her throat close up. She watched him closely as she removed his trousers, the belt clanking to the rug beneath them. His chest moved up and down slowly now, his eyes on her, his jaw clenching and unclenching.

Nesta was getting to know a side of him that he hadn’t yet revealed to her. And she had a feeling that he was kicking himself inwardly for indeed showing it to her. She could see it in the way that his eyes turned away from hers at times, the way he frowned, as if in embarrassment.

She dropped his last piece of clothing to the ground and took him in. Fire-born, a full bred warrior staring down at her.

She made herself turn away and grab one of the buckets, careful not to burn herself in the water as she poured it over the bath. One, two and then three more buckets that Cassian poured in himself. Nesta watched him get in the bath, his wings giving a pleasant flutter as he rested his body in the water.

Sitting at the edge of the bath, looking at the ancient scars on his back, Nesta said to him, “Do you wish to talk?”

“No.”

She didn’t push it. “Lay back,” she said. Cassian did, letting out a long sigh when he felt her pour more water on his hair, this time with a smaller bucket.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, eyes closed.

“Don’t apologize,” Nesta said. It was natural to her to take care of him like this, like he’d done for her a while ago. It was natural to grab the soap and wash his hair, taking her time with it, the steam curling her own hair around her temples. As she massaged his head, Nesta noticed him wiping at the bloody knuckles, wincing as he did.

They stayed in silence for the rest of the bath. When Nesta was done with his hair she moved on to his back, running a cloth along his skin, then the front of his chest, then his arms. She touched his wings last, letting the wet cloth drag over every inch, and her gaze stayed fixed on his face all the while, watching, as if mesmerized, the way that weariness and fury started to slowly melt away.

That lingering sadness remained.

Nesta wanted it gone. She never wanted to see the light dim in his eyes ever again. She hoped he knew – she hoped he knew that if she could, she would fight all the demons that tore at him from the inside out. She would fight the world if she needed to, if that meant he would never look as broken as he did at that moment.

She left him to relax in the bath, and sat herself on the same chair she’d been when he’d first arrived. Her book lay open there, and Nesta picked it up. As Cassian let his rage dissolve in the water, she read.

Instead of focusing on the words, her mind, however, wondered off, and Nesta thought of Devlon and his own camp. It had to be Devlon. Whatever Cassian went to get done there that morning-

He’d seen or heard something he didn’t like, that much was certain. The only doubt left in Nesta’s mind was whether or not Cassian had left Devlon’s camp intact, if it even existed now. Taking in that simmering anger that he’d arrived him, Nesta wasn’t hopeful. But then again – if Devlon or any of his males had done something to provoke him, to hurt him, then it was only better if Cassian had already finished them. Better them to have been dealt with by Cassian, then by her.

Minutes or hours passed, Nesta couldn’t tell. The chill increased, the night dawned upon them, and when her mind had disconnected itself once more and jumped into fantastic territories and worlds far away and characters she loved, Nesta heard the water stir.

She looked up.

Warily, she watched Cassian move out of the bath, slick wet, wiping his shoulder-length hair to a towel she’d left on the side of the tub for him. She meant to go back to her book.

But she could not look away.

Not as his eyes turned to her, noticing her stare.

He didn’t bother to dry himself off properly. There was something different in his eyes – something Nesta recognized, and it only made her cheeks flush, her heart race, her body turn into melted gold, burning. And she burned some more when he walked over to her, that dark gaze enveloping her. Her book lay open on her lap, forgotten. She pushed it away when he leaned in, his hands on either side of the chair’s arms.

They shared a look. It said everything.

Cassian leaned in, taking her lips.

It was sweet, and gentle, and everything else in between. It was an apology, it was a greeting, it was an I missed you, type of kiss, it was a thank you. It made her lungs stop working.

Nesta sighed against his lips, all too aware of his naked body so, so close to her. When he pulled away from her, all too soon, Nesta felt like she was ready to combust and keep burning until forever ended.

He nuzzled his face on her neck, breathing in her scent. Cassian dragged his mouth to the shell of her ear, and in an instant, her composure changed. She craved the closeness, the weight of his body on top of her, his hands drawing patterns on her skin. She craved him.

His teeth skimmed her neck as he nudged her head to the side. Nesta granted him access, swallowing down the moan that formed in the back of her throat. He kissed her with incredible softness, but then mixed with it there was an urgency to him. A need to take, and to never stop taking.

Even if the tension still hung on top of his shoulders, Nesta let her hands drag along his bare arms, up to his shoulders, then down – down over his chest, the tips of her fingers tracing over the faint and prominent scars forever etched on his skin, and marvelling at his utter perfection that had nothing to do with delicacy and everything to do with what he was – strong, warrior-born, her Prince made of fire.

“Talk to me,” she begged him then, a whisper against his ear as Cassian marked her neck. Her hands stopped at his abdomen, craving him closer to her. “Tell me what happened.”

“Not now,” he shook his head, his voice guttural.

“Cassian,” she whispered.

He took her lips once more, silencing her. No part of him trembled from the cold as he kissed her, as he took her face in his hands and claimed her lips. Her body sang at the contact, and everything in her was sighing in deep relief because there he was, and finally, finally, she could breathe. He’s here. He’s here.

Cassian opened her mouth with his, and tasted her. It sent a shiver down her body, the way his tongue traced her bottom lip, so teasingly, before he deepened the kiss. Nesta saw colours she’d never seen before behind the closed eyelids, felt that tingling sensation at the bottom of her stomach, and the hair in her arms rising as Cassian took her lip between his teeth.

He pulled back again, and she almost groaned in need. He kissed her brow, kissed her cheeks, kissed her nose. When her eyes fluttered closed once more, Cassian kissed her there, too. Long, lingering kisses that she had come to know and love. Without thinking, she dipped her hand down, wanting to feel that velvet softness-

Just to have Cassian pull her hand away, his fingers entwining with hers. She looked up, saw him lean in to kiss her forehead.

She parted her mouth, watching him as he pulled away. Silently, Cassian kneeled, and started unbuttoning her trousers, his eyes saying all kinds of things to her. Nesta’s hand felt cold without his.

“Cassian,” she attempted once more, her voice getting lost when that dark, hungry gaze met hers. There were things he wanted to forget, and she wanted to help him-

But she wanted to know what, exactly, she was helping him forget. He wasn’t letting her in.

“Lift your hips for me.”

His voice alone had her dizzy. Nesta lifted her hips off the chair, and Cassian removed her shoes and her trousers, shoving the pieces to the floor – as well as her undergarments.

Her core burned instantly underneath his gaze, her toes curling at the burning hunger in his eyes. Cassian gripped her hips, and touched his lips to the bottom of her stomach, his hair, still wet and curling, tickling her skin.

She had no words in her mouth. None whatsoever as he pestered open-mouthed kisses to her skin, the top of her thighs and hipbones, none as Cassian’s nose skimmed the inside of her leg, and breathed in.

She saw his body change. Nesta ran her fingers through his hair.

“Tell me,” she murmured.

“Not now,” he repeated, voice laced with desire.

“Cass-“

She tried to touch his face, to tilt his chin up so she could see his eyes, but Cassian only gripped her hips harder, clinging to her, and said against her skin, “Just let me. Let me taste you.”

The words made her very still.

“Please,” he begged.

Nesta cupped his cheek, so gently. When Cassian looked up at her, she was taken aback by the desperation she saw there, that same sadness darkening his eyes. She pulled him closer, her heart aching for him, and kissed him. She hoped he understood what was not being spoken, what she wanted him to know with the touch of her lips on his. She hoped he knew that she would wait, just like he did. She would wait until he was ready to show his heart, to show his mind.

He pecked her lips one last time, lingering, before dragging his hands down to her thighs, and spreading them open for him. Nesta shivered, her body trembling not from the cold, but from need.

Cassian began like the always did – drawing a line of kisses on the inside of her thighs, his hands yanking her to the edge of the chair. Her stomach clenched in anticipation. When Cassian placed her legs over his shoulders and lowered his head, Nesta threw her head back.

She sucked in a breath when he licked her. The groan that escaped him as her hips twisted and moved on their own in time with his tongue made her head spin, made her back arch off the chair, her fingers wrapping tight around his wet curls. Nesta contained a gasp, biting on her bottom lip, as Cassian licked a stripe all the way to her clit.

“I want to hear you,” he murmured against her, arms underneath her thighs, hands on her waist. “I need to hear you.”

Another gasp tore from her throat the next time Cassian placed his mouth on her. He sucked, kissed, and licked her until she lost total control of herself and her own surroundings. A moan fell from her lips then, a plea for more, as Cassian licked lower. Her head turned, eyes falling shut, hips moving on their own.

When her toes started curling and her legs started clenching on either side of his head, Nesta pulled at his curls. “Stop,” she managed to blurt out, his name a moan on her lips. “Cassian – stop, stop.”

He did, only briefly, to kiss her neck. She couldn’t handle his body between her thighs, couldn’t handle him so close without him letting her touch him. When her hands moved, searching for his warmth, Cassian grabbed her wrists and kissed her. Passionately, ardently, as if it was the last time he was going to. As if time was a fleeting moment from them once more, as if he wanted to take it all in, before time ran out on them.

He took her in his arms, walking them to the bed. All the while, his hands fumbled with the leathers she wore, tearing her shirt off and leaving it ripped on the ground, as well as the protective leathers she wore on her chest, her arms. For the first time since their mating, Nesta let him take complete control – because he needed it now, and because she could barely form words let alone gather the strength to be the one to push him onto the bed.

He sat in the soft mattress with her on his lap. Nesta adjusted her body, breathless at feeling every contour of his own body against hers, anticipating the moment when they would be joined. But instead Cassian laid back, touched the back of her thighs, and inclined her forward. Towards his mouth.

She hesitated, dizzy with desire. He was hot and ready under her, and she could simply sink down onto him-

“Please,” he begged.

And Nesta inched forward, legs already shaking.

“I want you now,” she said, her words fumbling together, a string of whispered, breathless words that did not ease the ache in her.

“You’ll have me,” he promised, equally as breathless. “You’ll have me.”

Cassian moved down, both hands around her legs, dragging upward. Squeezing. Before he looked up from between her legs, eyes darker than she’d ever seen them. “Come here,” he coaxed.

He’d never had her like this. Nesta felt the knots in her stomach already unravelling just at the sight of him. Slowly, Nesta sat down.

And her hands came to grasp the mattress in front of her, fingers twisting the sheets as Cassian devoured her. Nesta did not try to be quiet this time around – couldn’t, even if she’d tried. What he made her feel could not be silenced. Not as Cassian dug his fingers into the back of her legs and let his tongue send her falling and falling.

She couldn’t take it, she realized. She wouldn’t be able to survive him like this. Not as Cassian moved his fingers between her legs, sending her to that edge faster. Nesta straightened her back as the first wave hit her, her hands placed behind her in his chest, nails digging into his skin. As she unravelled, Cassian only licked her faster, harder, deeper, planning to make it last for two eternities.

And it did.

Only when she could barely support her own weight did he remove his mouth from her, his arms circling her waist. Much more tenderly now, Cassian dragged her along with him as he sat, their bodies perfectly aligned, like stars. They breathed against one another, and Nesta let her forehead fall on his shoulder, her body settling down.

“Did that help?” She managed to say, her lips kissing his shoulder.

He nodded once.

But still-

That feeling in the bottom of her stomach didn’t go away. Nesta touched his heart, letting her hand linger, feeling his heartbeat underneath her palm. He’d planned to hold her, just hold her, but she fell away from his arms.

Cassian watched her lay down against the pillows, her eyes inviting. When he didn’t move, Nesta stretched out a hand. To pull him out of those cold waters, to bring him to the surface – just like he’d done with her.

“Come here,” she said to him.

Cassian moved upwards, settling against her body, his face nuzzling her neck.

Nesta said, against his ear, “Can I tell you about my day?”

Cassian nodded, pestering kisses all around the skin of her neck. So unlikely of him to be so silent. Nesta’s heart ached once more, breaking at that sadness she found deep within him, sadness she could feel, and sadness she understood all too well.

“I woke up this morning with your arms around me, and your lips on my back,” she whispered, digging her fingers against his shoulders when his teeth scraped the spot behind her ear, no doubt marking her there, too. “And I have never woke up happier. I never wake up happier than when I wake up with you.”

A little sound left him, a sound of relief, of love. It stayed with her, even as his lips dragged down to her collarbones, marking her with kisses wherever he could reach. Her mind sang at the contact. Mine. You’re mine. And I’m yours.

“And then you left, and I still had the memory of our night,” she continued, eyes fluttering closed when his hands dragged down the sides of her body, memorizing the curves. “And, so soon, I wanted you again.”

A single growl, deep in his throat, as Cassian moved further down her body, to touch his lips to her breasts.

Nesta gasped, back arching off the mattress, her bottom lip between her teeth. “And all day I missed you. I missed this. Your eyes, your hair, your lips. I missed your voice and I missed your everything.” Her mouth opened – a silent moan, a soft breath falling from her lips when he took the small hurt into his mouth, licked it. “I could only think-I could only think of you.”

“Say it,” he rasped out.

“I love you, Cassian.”

His eyes turned to her. Cassian cupped her cheek, every emotion written on those dark eyes.

Nesta had never had a favourite colour.

She’d heard Elain sing about the pink roses in their childhood garden, and Feyre, so little, talking about the dark blue skies when the earth darkened. But Nesta - she’d never had a favourite colour.

Looking into those eyes – eyes that she loved, eyes that she couldn’t – wouldn’t – live without, Nesta realized what her favourite colour was at last.

“I love you,” she repeated. “My mate.”

She could feel the change in him at that word alone. The way his breath stopped, the way his body went very, very still, the way his mouth parted, watching her from above.

“You will never feel like this again,” she murmured to him, her tone loving, her heart opened to him. Nesta wrapped one leg around his waist, pulling him closer. “I never want this loneliness to embrace your heart ever again.” She cupped his face, bringing him even closer to her, so close their lips touched as she spoke. “Lean on me,” she whispered. “Lean on me, Cassian, as I have leaned on you.”

He rested his forehead against hers, fighting back tears. His body trembled against her, and Nesta wanted to erase every terrible thing that had been done to him. Ever terrible thing he’d ever heard about himself.

Every terrible thing she’d shot at him. Every awful thing they had done to each other.

Her ankle pressed down onto his back, and she felt him – so hot and ready against her, harder than he’d ever been. Her mouth parted on its own when Cassian moved his hips, so slowly, almost instinctively, responding to her. She felt every thick inch of him as he entered her.

“You are half of me,” she managed to say, choking on the words, her legs clenching around his waist. “And I am half of you. I know your heart. You know mine.”

He slammed in to the hilt with one slow thrust. Nesta groaned underneath her breath, and Cassian let out a powerful growl, low enough that they wouldn’t be heard in the roaring storm, but loud enough to make her hips move on their own against him.

“And so,” she said, breathless, as he began to move. “You will never have to fight on your own again, Cassian.”

Release was approaching her fast, too soon, as he thrust into her. Nesta called out his name, the sweet pressure becoming almost painful as she became dangerously close to that cliff edge. Cassian was watching her, groaning between every thrust, his eyebrows furrowed, his eyes full of love.

“I love you,” she said again. “Come back to me. Come back home, Cassian.”

Come back home.

She remembered a time when she’d said the exact opposite to him.

Go home, Cassian.

When she’d told him to leave her, to leave her at last.

She’d been too much of a coward back then to run to him. She’d been scared, petrified of having her heart out in the open – all that darkness showed to him, for him to judge.

But Cassian had not judged her. Not once. Not as she’d broken into pieces, right in front of him. Not as she’d shown him what lay underneath every mask she’d ever created.

“Nesta,” he breathed, his head falling on her chest, the rhythm of his thrusts changing.

That delicious ache only increased as he said her name, so low, against her breasts. Like a prayer.

“I love you,” he murmured. “I love you.” 

And he repeated it, even as they both went over the edge. Nesta came abruptly, with his name on her lips, her fingers fisting his hair. She was only distantly aware of Cassian’s hand digging into the sheets, and the sound of fabric ripping that followed. He’d roared loud enough to shake their tent.

Black spots adorned her vision as Nesta opened her eyes to see him lift his face. Her legs fell to the mattress, limp with exhaustion, as Cassian leaned in to place a sweet, gentle kiss on the center of her lips. A kiss so characteristically his that her heart eased.

When he tried to move off her, Nesta wrapped his arms around his shoulders once more and made him stay where he was – perfectly aligned with her.

“Hello,” she murmured.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured back, kissing her nose. “Hi.”

“Welcome home,” she said. “I missed you.”

“I missed you,” he said. “Gods, I missed you. I needed you so much today.”

Nesta watched him, the tenderness of their intimacy still hanging between them, as Cassian traced her jawline with the back of his finger. She spoke to him slowly, lovingly, her fingers pulling his hair away from his forehead. She wanted to see her favourite colour. “Do you want to tell me why?”

He paused.

“You went to see Devlon,” she said, nodding. “What happened, Cassian?”

That rage – it was still there, lingering, but calmer, dimmed. Cassian looked towards the ripped sheet next to her head.

“Look at me,” she whispered, turning his face to her, two fingers on his chin. “Don’t hide from me.”

“I’m not hiding from you, Nesta. Never from you.”

“You are,” she said, cupping his cheek. “I want this gone,” she murmured, touching her lips to the corner of his eye. “This sadness.”

Cassian gave her a slight smile that broke her heart into pieces.

“I went to visit Devlon’s camp, at Rhys’ request.”

She nodded, waiting for him to continue.

Once more, Cassian’s eyes focused on something else, his fingers pulling her hair away from her cheeks. He turned then, his face thoughtful as if he was attempting and failing to find the proper words, and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her ever so close to his chest. They were side by side.

Nesta breathed in his warmth, let it embrace her.

Cassian said, “Devlon gave permission to clip two females today.”

Nesta blinked, the shock of the words setting in. “Why?”

Cassian shook his head. “I could tell there was something wrong when I reached the camp,” he said, turning his eyes towards the entrance of their tent. “There was a strange air about the place. Devlon’s Second was nowhere to be seen, and when I asked for him, they all turned their eyes away.”

“So when I asked Devlon himself, the rat lied to my face. They were not expecting me,” Cassian said, looking at her. “Visits to Devlon’s camp are usually formal and planned ahead. They know whenever I’m coming over. This time, however, because they didn’t know – they clipped two females.”

“How did you find out?” Nesta whispered, her head resting on his arm.

“I knew by Devlon’s face, by the way he wanted to keep me busy, by the way he was talking, even,” Cassian responded. “I gathered every single person on that camp. Made them all stand in front of me. Counted. Three were missing.”

Nesta lowered her eyes, focusing on the scarred knuckles that now touched her own hand.

“You found them,” she said.

Cassian nodded grimly. “A mountain away. The reason? They hadn’t done their chores of the day. The females had been caught training with each other.”

Nesta said, “I thought they had stopped clipping females centuries ago.”

“They had,” Cassian said. “They were supposed to, by Rhysand’s orders. Females are supposed to be trained. Females are supposed to stand on equal ground with the males – always. It doesn’t happen as often, but it still does. The punishment for clipping a female – anyone – is death.”

Nesta went very still, her eyes glued to those scarred knuckles. She murmured softly, “You killed Devlon’s second.”

Cassian went quiet.

She could understand – killing his own people wasn’t something Cassian did lightly, with a bouncy step and a good laugh. It wasn’t something he enjoyed. Even the small-minded ones, the ones that destroyed lives. They were still his people, and it still left a scar.

“I should have killed Devlon too,” Cassian said. “I don’t know how I didn’t. I don’t know how I gathered the strength to…to stop.”

Nesta touched his cheeks, making him look at her. “You have a honourable heart, Cassian.”

“They hate me more now.”

“Better them to hate you than to become the male that stands there and watches without saying a word,” she said to him. “Cassian – I’m sorry you had to do that today. But you might have saved two lives.”

He’d needed them all to see, once and for all. The most terrible part of being a Commander, Nesta guessed, was that sometimes you became your own enemy.

Cassian said, “I don’t regret it.”

“You shouldn’t.”

Cassian turned his eyes to her, heaving a deep sigh. “I was too late.”

Nesta paused, taking his hand into hers. She kissed the bruised knuckles, letting her lips linger over the cuts. She would have to clean his hand – later.

“You couldn’t have known,” she said softly.

“I should have,” he amended, guilt biting at him. “They’re my people, I should have guessed-“

“You acted, Cassian,” she said. “How many can say that? Let them despise you, those sickening minds. Let them turn your name into a laughing stock, what does it matter? Let them fear you. What you did today for those females – no one in that camp would have done it.”

He stayed silent, wrapped up in his own mind.

Nesta simply observed her mate, his hand in her own, his heart beating against hers. She said, very softly, “Cassian – why do you care so much?”

His eyes turned to hers. He understood the question for what it was, for his eyes lowered, full of an emotion Nesta couldn’t place, as he sucked in a breath.

She would not deny his warrior’s heart. She would not deny the pure goodness of him, the desire to help his people get better and be better; be something else other than the people whose minds still work according to different times. But between all the emotions that she picked up from her bond, there was one that mixed with the others, one deeply-rooted, one he wouldn’t allow himself to feel but crept up on him at times anyway. One that she now felt, as she looked at him.

“My mother,” he began, voice hoarse, “they turned her into nothing but a slave that could be disregarded and thrown away whenever she wasn’t needed. They did what they wanted to her – no consequences added.” His eyes closed, his breathing staggered. Nesta’s heart clenched in her chest. She held on tighter. “She was treated like many women were at that time, Nes. Like dirt. Like nothing. She was born sad and she died sad. She never got a chance to be free – and to be happy.”

Nesta wrapped one arm around his shoulders, holding him when his tears choked his words. She held on, she would hold on endlessly.

“I want that to change,” he said, very lowly, against her. Cassian gave a shaking breath, and continued, “If we ever have a daughter, Nesta, I want my daughter to be looked at as the warrior she will be, and not like they looked at my mother. I will not bear it. I will not accept it. It needs to change. It needs to.”

Her own throat closed as Cassian rested his forehead against hers. “It will change,” she whispered to him. “Because of you. It will change, Cassian.”

But – a daughter.

A future ahead in front of them, so clear in her eyes. A future she hadn’t thought she wanted, but one that now gave her heart wings, made it flutter.

“I am endlessly proud of you.”

“I killed someone today.”

“You’re right,” Nesta said. “And he didn’t deserve to be killed for what he did. He deserved to be torture for a millennia. But you offered him mercy.”

He looked at her.

“I will never see you as anything other than this, Cassian,” Nesta said, very clearly. “I will never not see you as the hero, as the warrior, that you are. I will never think of your heart as anything but good.”

He searched her eyes, his hand coming to caress the side of his face. “I owe you so much, sweetheart.”

“I owe you.”

A pause. A moment of silence where they simply stared at each other, sharing lazy, loving kisses, their hearts open to one another.

Cassian smiled slightly, his tone still soft, still tender. “I thought you said you wouldn’t think of me as anything else other than a brute.”

Nesta smiled in return, rolling lazily on top of him. Cassian’s fingers dug into her spine. “I haven’t taken that back,” Nesta said. “You are still very much a brute.”

“A brute you love.”

Her face softened, her voice too. “A brute I love.”

Cassian traced constellations up her spine. He kissed her cheek, kissed her chin, her cheeks, and both eyelids. He kissed everywhere he could reach. And Nesta felt his heart light, felt the clouds outside rolling away, taking the storm with them.

He paused before touching his lips to hers, murmuring, “Will you make love to me again?”

Nesta cocked her head to the side, her hair a curtain that spilled over his chest. “What will I get out of it?”

Cassian smiled sweetly, “Isn’t it so much better if I show you?”

Nesta didn’t fight the smile that formed on her lips. Didn’t fight the small laugh that fell from her lips as his fingers patted her sides, making her body contort beneath that ticklish touch.

She looked down at him, at her mate, and murmured, so gently, “You are the light of my life.”

Cassian sat up, pulling her body ever so close. “You are mine,” he murmured back. “Say it again.”

“I love you,” she whispered against his mouth, almost singing the words, singing his name along with it. “Cassian. I love you.” 

“Nesta,” he said, eyes closed, nudging her nose with his. “Thank you.”

The clouds took that rage deep within him with them. Now, as the night sky settled, clear and bright with stars, Nesta smiled, and her mate smiled with her.

She murmured, “You’re half of me. I’m half of you,” the words she’d thought she’d never believe in, the words that she’d rejected for so, so long. The thing she had ignored, ever since she had laid eyes on him, at her father’s estate. “And nothing will take that away.”

He kissed her one more time, sweeter, gentler, this time. And when Nesta sank down on him again, so slowly, when he moaned her name again, and again, when that bond shined brighter than ever between them, Nesta said, “Will you say it?”

And Cassian said it, “I love you, sweetheart.”

In a canvas of dark blue sky, the clouds rolled away, leaving the stars to shine.


End file.
